The Things in Life
by Tristifico
Summary: On his birthday, Ootori Kyouya reflects on the people and things that make him who he is. Slight KyouyaHaruhi.


My first Ouran High School Host Club fic! I'm not a usual fan of manga/anime, but for this I make an exception. There are the prevailing serious issues, of course, like the rich-poor gap and all, but who can resist high-school students like them? And delving into the mind of the Host Club's most mysterious member is definitely rewarding, because there's so much room for development!

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but I'm not refusing a pet Kyouya. (seriously, which girl would?)

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**The Things In Life**

Kyouya typed out the last few lines of his report, and it was with no small relief that he saved the document before shutting down his laptop. Despite the fact that he was always efficient and quick, calculating the Host Club's profits had taken longer this time, due to several new measures that he had implemented to increase the club's income. He knew that tomorrow he would reread his work and be satisfied with it, but for now he could only think of how blurry his vision was getting.

He crossed over his living room to lounge on the sofa for a short break, while simultaneously taking a glance at the clock. _2am._ Without him realizing it, the 21st of November had become the 22nd, and he let his eyes close for a moment as he considered the formal birthday celebration that would take place in the Ootori family mansion later that evening. The celebration would be a reflection of his life, because he understood that the decorations would be minimal and tasteful, though a little too aloof and sterile; but since his mansion was already all cold glass and hard metal, it would be absolutely fitting.

With that, Kyouya's thoughts somehow drifted over to the guests that would be arriving later on, among them his best friends- no, allies- from school. _How the Host Club members would gape if they saw me now. _He could see himself in his mind's eye, lazily sprawled out on the white sofa, his hair slightly disheveled and his clothes not starched to stiff perfection. _But,_ he thought, _there is no one here to care about how I look like now. _Only in the dead of the night could he drop all the facades he carried around with him; some he put on because he liked to see how people reacted to them, and others were necessary to survive in a family like his. One of the few things he thought more important than power or wealth was appearance, because to Kyouya maintaining a flawless appearance was the basic cornerstone to achieving anything greater. Hence the reason why he wore glasses and not contacts- his sister had told him once and again that he looked far better without spectacles (not that he needed to look better), but his glasses allowed him to hide a lot more of his emotions, and that beat looking more handsome any time.

_My father would be happy to know that I have my priorities right._

If nothing else, Kyouya prided himself on being flexible, constructing his plans to accommodate all manner of unexpected incidents and treating each person based on how he thought they deserved to be treated (he was close to developing a point system in his head ). He could be more open with his Host Club friends, since after so many years he knew that they were neither backstabbers nor loose-tongued, and so they had gained, each in their own individual way, a bit of his trust.

Even Tamaki, who was nearly the opposite of Kyouya, could be read like an open book, and it was obvious that Tamaki was essentially good at heart. So he trusted Tamaki. The twins could be deceitful, but usually only for superficial reasons (directly helping the club to earn even more, so Kyouya wasn't complaining), and after they broke the barrier between them and the outside world, Kyouya found that they were fiercely loyal to their friends. Mori and Honey wouldn't give up their friends' secrets even if they were threatened by a whole army of knife-wielding yakuza, which, in the first place, would not really bother them too much.

But the newest member of the Host Club was vastly different from his friends in so many ways… not only was she a girl, but she was also of commoner background. Kyouya found it harder to predict her actions, since her mentality was different from the rest's. While their answer to difficult situations was simply making good use of their families' wealth, power and influence, Haruhi would depend more on herself and her hard work to overcome obstacles. _In that way,_ Kyouya distantly thought, _she is better than us._ He knew that without their families most of Ouran High's students would be totally helpless, but Haruhi was one that probably could survive on her own in the outside world. Kyouya made a mental note to observe her more to learn from her.

_I know what I know and what I don't know._ Kyouya understood a lot of things, but there were those that he hadn't grasped yet, and that constant urge to learn more was precisely what his peers lacked. Despite the fact that people thought him all-knowing and rather arrogant, Kyouya felt that it merely came from his level stare and sharp observational skills. He had learnt early on that simply watching people told you more about them than their words could ever say, and that skill was essential to him. After all, he _was_ the third son, and he could use all the advantages over his brothers that he could get. Who cared if it was slightly underhand?

(Of course, in his more cynical moments, he had a perverse enjoyment from thinking about the nicknames others gave him. It was sort of an inner, private joke to him.)

And, he found her very interesting. _I am like a little boy burning ants just to see what a magnifying glass and the sun can do. _It was one of his few disadvantages that he would pay heavy prices just to see more into people's actions, but it was a price that he was all too willing to pay. Why spend money on computer games, or private yachts, when this cost-saving activity was so much more fulfilling?

Kyouya recalled the time at the beach. Obviously, Haruhi was brave, though a little reckless, and didn't really think of the consequences. _But I could balance that- she makes up for my over-cautiousness, and I for her rashness. _But what truly perked his interest was when he gave in to one of his more absurd plans that occasionally zoomed through his head and taught her a lesson. _What came over me?_ Until now, Kyouya still didn't really know why he had pretended to attempt to rape her. He could have just as easily increased her debt, or told her father about it. There were so many other ways available!

But he couldn't deny that he was the one to turn off the lights, and the shocked-surprised look on Haruhi's face was the thing that set his whole absurd plan into motion. Something in him broke then, and he nearly threw her onto the bed, wanting _to show her that the world wasn't that kind_, wanting to _wipe away that shocked look_, but Haruhi had only looked at him calmly and told him that he wouldn't rape her. _What other woman would have done that?_ Kyouya had anticipated a struggle, or even resignation, but in no way had he considered that her reaction would be so different.

If there was anything about Tamaki that Kyouya was thankful for, it was his wonderful sense of timing.

She was interesting enough for Kyouya to consider bringing her into his life permanently, at a later stage. Still, his father would never approve, and currently his father's approval was far greater than any of Kyouya's more superficial wishes (though if Kyouya wanted something badly enough, then anything went to hell). _Besides, _the more vastly larger practical side of him said, _others I associate with will not see past her background for her character and attractiveness. _

Then there was a rare moment where he almost pitied himself for the lack of freedom in his life. Then he examined it more closely, and then came up with an added distinction that made all the difference. _My life is like a limerick, I suppose. _It had strict guidelines and rules, but other than that he was free to fill it up any way he wanted. That was his own form of rebellion; he would not openly rebel, but do it from the back that no one else would realize it until they couldn't do anything about it any longer.

In a blink, though, that moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Kyouya straightened out his priorities once again.

He shook his head to clear it, and looked at the clock again. _5am._ He had already sat there for three whole hours, and besides, he had a gut feeling that if he had better sleep now if he wanted a few hours of blessed silence before Tamaki dragged the whole lot of idiots into his bedroom again. Although this particular habit was the reason behind his nickname of the Low Blood Pressure Demon King, Kyouya did not regard it as time-wasting; he preferred to think of it as- _metacognition. _Yes, that was the word.

And besides, he was Kyouya, even it was just him alone, but he also had the Ootori family name behind him. _So_ _I answer only to myself._

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Amazingly, I got this done in less than an hour. I suppose it was one of my "writing times".

So, to reward me for my wonderful hard work, shouldn't you review?


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